Burden of Truth
by ChocoDragon
Summary: A fic I wrote when learning how to type (hench gap in the middle)... neway, Quisty knows something about Squall, but does he?


******WARNING- This fic is based heavily on events near the end of the game. For the sake of keeping by neck in one piece and still having my head in it's correct place tomorrow morning, I strongly suggest reading ONLY if you have completed the game. You don't have to listen to me, of course, but don't say I didn't warn you. (smiles sweetly)******  
  
If it's in here, I probably don't own it. (AKA Mini-Disclaimer, in case you didn't get that...)  
  
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Burden of Truth  
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Squall looked up. "What?" he said, a look of complete bewilderment, confusion and sheer disbelief etched onto his face.  
"I didn't believe it at first either..." came the reply.  
  
It'd been two weeks since the whole Ultimecia event, and Quistis knew she couldn't keep it hidden any longer. She'd figured it out back then, of course, but not right away though. It had taken her a while before she fully understood. All night actually. The events of that week had been crazy, true. I mean, it's not everyday that you fight a possessed sorceress who turns out to be the very woman who raised you, stand by and watch 3 of your best friends jettison themselves into space then take on a crazed lunatic hell-bent on "compressing time", but there was something about this that... well... just didn't make sense. Something just didn't sit right...  
  
"You look very much like your mother."  
  
She wasn't supposed to have heard that, she knew, but it had been an accident. She should've just stayed on the bridge with the others, but, well, she hadn't. It was an accident that had happened then, in the past, and no amount of wishing it had never happened or praying it would go away could release the burden which had unintentionally been placed upon her on that day.   
  
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And ever since then, she had looked for a sign, the slightest thing that would show her that he knew all that she did. And a radio call from Esthar was the chance she had been waiting for to find out the truth.   
  
She knew Squall had a severe disliking of Laguna, even before they had met in the flesh, but how that conversation had gone confirmed her worst fears. Even through his rock-solid, professional projection of himself she had expected to see... well... something. Anything. Even the tiniest crack in Squall's expression would have given her the indication she needed to finally let it go. To heave a sigh of relief to know that she was, in fact, worrying over nothing.  
  
But it never came.  
  
Not once. No slight edge of venom in Squall's voice that would suggest he hated the man to the very depths of his soul. No indication of the way how, after 17 years of torment, frustration and loneliness, he finally had someone to blame for everything that had gone wrong in his life. The cause of his entire existence stood before him, a physical being accountable for everything, and yet he showed no more contempt for the man than he had the first time they had met.  
  
A thought crossed her mind briefly, but she dismissed it quicker than a feather drifting by, caught in a passing breeze. She knew his truth, now she had to accept one of her own.  
  
He didn't know.  
  
He didn't even have the slightest clue. And something about him not knowing whilst she did just didn't seem right to her. She knew she was a natural born worrier, had she not looked briefly into the sciences in her younger days prior to becoming a SeeD she would have sworn it was coded into her genes from birth. The thought had crossed her mind that she was worrying too much, and that this was just a part of her looking out for her friends, but her thinking about it only served to strengthen her resolve. He had to know. It was, after all, his life. Laguna had had many chances to tell him himself, and if he had chosen not to use them, then fair enough. Maybe it was that Laguna didn't want Squall to know the truth, for fear it may cause him more pain than his absence in the boy's life had. But Quistis knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if, one day many years from now, Squall walked into the room and told the group that Laguna had told him something he just couldn't bring himself to believe. And then she would have to admit that she had known all along. What would they think of her then? She would be just as deserving, if not more so, of any feelings of anger or hatred that Squall felt for Laguna for keeping this secret from him. She was one of Squall's closest friends. There weren't many people who Squall trusted, she knew that. And he hadn't exactly let them into his life that easily. To got and betray that trust was something she couldn't bring herself to do, no matter what the circumstances.  
  
So she had made the decision. She would tell him. But when? And how? How do you tell someone that the key person who had been missing from their life was actually the guy they had spoken to just last week, and had absolutely no idea about?   
  
She hadn't had to worry about this for long though. The opportunity had presented itself. The gang usually met up for breakfast. A strange ritual, by which the individual members would arrive each morning for brief conversation before heading of to face the day and whatever it may bring. Zell and Selphie were usually there first- Selphie was always awake before anyone else, and Zell's room was nearer to the cafeteria than hers or Irvine's. Not that that mattered, because Irvine would usually be the last to arrive, sliding in 5 minutes later than Squall or Rinoa.   
  
Except this morning was different. Selphie, Zell and Irvine were out on a mission, and Rinoa was visiting Watts and Zone in Timber, which they had returned to after the whole Ultimecia incident was over. That left just her and Squall. She hadn't intended on telling him then. She hadn't woken up and thought "Hey, everyone's out, why don't I tell him now?". It was just, whilst she was sitting there, with Squall opposite her, hunched slightly over a cup of black coffee, that the thought had occurred to her. He would probably need to think about it after she told him, especially if her wasn't expecting it, and not having the others around would be the easiest way for him to catch some time alone to think things over.  
  
Before she knew what she was doing, she began to speak.  
"Squall..."  
"Yeah?" came the reply.  
She took a deep breath, then she told him the very thing that had been a burden on her mind for the past two weeks.  
  
Squall looked up. "What?" he said, a look of complete bewilderment, confusion and sheer disbelief etched onto his face.  
"I didn't believe it at first either..." came the reply.  
  
Then she told him everything. Told him how she had overheard Kiros that day on the Ragnarok, Told him of how she had thought about what may have motivated him to say that. Told him of how she had spun the sentence in her head for days, and how the more she thought about it, the more the pieces fell into place. Squall's strong ties to Ellone. Ellone's presence in the orphanage. Why Ellone had placed Squall into Laguna's mind. The chronology of it all and how, scientifically, it could be possible. Ward's reaction the first time he had seen them at the Sorceress memorial. Piece by piece she reeled off the evidence, the facts that she knew that fitted he picture. Squall stared blankly into the coffee cup, absorbing everything she had said.  
  
Her explanation finished. Having run out of reasons for her conclusion, she looked up at him. He was still staring into the cup. The 10 seconds of silence that passed after that had seemed like an eternity. She waited. After a while, Squall looked up slowly.  
"I..." he began, then stopped. "...I have to think about this." He said, standing up and leaving the room as swiftly as he had entered only 15 minutes before.  
  
Quistis sighed and leaned back in her chair. She knew he would deal with it alone, he always did. And after getting over the initial shock of what she had said, maybe he wouldn't care anyway. He would have the chance to carry on with his life, not giving a damn about the figure who had never been there for him, never had any influence on his life to this date, and continue to be the typical, stoic brooder they all knew and loved. She smiled slightly to herself, reassured by the knowledge that she had done the right thing. He knew now. She had given him the information, and now it was up to him what to do with it.   
  
Shaking her head lightly, she stood and left the room, two cups of cold coffee left standing on the table the only monuments commemorating what had been said there earlier that morning.  
  
  
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Okay, so this fic wasn't planned at all. It's just my attempt at an idea my sister had of using fanfic as an exercise to help learn how to touch-type. Flame it all you like, I really don't care. But to those of you who like it, let it be a lesson to you that writing fanfic doesn't have to take laborious planning or be a complete masterpiece when you've finished. Not discrediting those that are- there are some brilliant authors out there who clearly put in that little extra effort to give their fanfic just that little something that sparks your imagination and makes that person memorable to you for weeks on end. But to those of you who refrain from writing, believing that you don't have the talent, ideas or the time, then my message to you is to ignore these things. You don't need to be the best writer in the world. You don't need to have everything planned from beginning to end. Hell, you don't even have to start out with the intention of writing fanfic. You don't need to write contiuously for hours on end just to get that story finished. Take your time. Open notepad, write a sentence, and the words will come. Inspiration is not where we seek it- it seeks us out and will manifest itself when it sees fit. As I have learned today, and I share this knowledge, in the hope that be may also be of use to others.  
  
Alternately, I'm just talking total bullshit, in which case, the aforementioned Flame Box is open to cussing of all breeds, shapes and forms %)  
  
Peace, out!  
ChocoDragon (obviously watching too much Dark Angel for her own good...)  
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